Private Writings: Chapters #57 — Whenever I Want You

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #57 – Whenever I Want You

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 15th April 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #57 — Whenever I Want You

[Madison's Fourth Week Being Held at Redcliff Psychiatric Institute After a Failed Suicide Attempt...]

Tuesday 7th October 2008

Dear Annie,

Writings from my own “A Writer’s Diary,” while I am inside Redcliff Psychiatric Institute. It is the best way to keep track of what is going on. I want evidence if they fuck me up more than I already am. So far they haven’t forced any pharma meds on me, and they won’t allow me access to my Medical Marijuana either, even though I am licensed to legally use it as a medication to treat health issues and as my psych meds. I stopped taking pharma except for Klonopin. Getting off of that feels almost as bad as I imagine stopping cold from heroin. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My insides felt jumpy and nauseous. I was going from cold sweats to freezing than feeling like I couldn’t cool off. My mind was freaking me out. I finally told my doctor I needed to keep taking at least half of the dosage. It was feeling impossible to stop. Seems I am stuck with the Klonopin until my doc and I can figure out how to trick my system into thinking it is still receiving my drug of choice to killing myself.

Jamie, my sweet friend, with whom I am wickedly crushing on, saved my life. Not so sure I’ve decided yet to thank her. Jamie blew my mind when she played Carter McLeod in my recent screenwriting success in “Brief Sacrifice.” She was excellent. Scottie told me the gross at present is well over $45,000,000. We made it for $17,500,000, rounded off. It has only just been released overseas.

It’s a great time traveling mystery hooked into Nikola Tesla. It has the edge of the book “Da Vinci Code,” but the film is tighter and more thrilling. Having a female protagonist is what makes it so much more intriguing. It gets pretty exhausting always having a man be the hero. Come on, men are not as brave as women. They like to think so but their guts churn as much as ours do, except society won’t allow men to show their more delicate feminine side. There is nothing wrong with a man being sensitive, nor a woman. Being a man in this world may have its perks but I would never want to be a man, too vulnerable in many ways.

A new day.

As usual, I went way off subject while writing my entry yesterday. Jamie’s visit was touching and depressing. I told her I thought I was in love with her, but it had nothing to do with sex. It was the feeling of closeness with her that made me feel secure. Like I wasn’t alone. I just wanted her to hold me while we would just lie down together and snuggle. More for comfort than something prurient. It was all innocent. Jamie wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get that close. What would Scottie think?

Scottie and I have an understanding. Nothing ever becomes sexual unless it is forced. I don’t sleep with other woman for sex. I have never slept with anyone for sex. The fact that sex has been foisted upon me by the desires of other people, is not my doing. My therapists have all told me, the sexual abuse and the mind and emotional abuse scarred me so severely when I was a child and the abuse followed me into my adult life. I have always been unable to stop an abuser. My fight or flight reflexes don’t work. I freeze when threatened by anything and I don’t know how to stop a person from forcing themselves on me.

When Sylvia’s drug incapacitated me, it was like living in a nightmare. My body couldn’t shut down. My usual escape route was blocked off by her cleverness. I couldn’t dissociate. She had me trapped. I saw and felt everything that she did. It was brutal. She was brutal. It felt like having surgery without anesthesia. It’s why I had to kill myself. What she did when she stole my means of removing myself from her abuse, it opened the door for all my abusers to gang rape me, beginning that night and ever since. All the things they have done have been flooding my mind and body ever since the night Sylvia took me hostage, paralyzed me, and sexually savaged my body. It was painful on all levels of sensitivity. Sylvia was possessed by a demon when she raped me. The time was endless. I never felt she would stop. In fact, she didn’t stop on her own.

Jamie broke through the locked door to my study. Once she was in the room, she assessed the situation and immediately attacked Sylvia and pulled Sylvia away from me. It was at that moment when James leaped on Sylvia’s back. He latched his claws into her back while he pinned her to the floor. James is a Savannah cat. He is enormous. His weight is over 40 pounds. He sat on her, with claws dug in while Jamie called ‘911’ and the three of us waited for them to arrive.

Where was Scottie? I wanted to see Scottie. She would know what to do. But I couldn’t speak. I was in a drug haze which shut down my motor functions, including my speech center. Jamie must have seen the helplessness in my eyes, and realized I needed help right away. She tried Scottie on her cell but no answer. She sent a text, hoping Scottie would see it and come right after seeing the text.

The police and paramedics arrived, one after the other. That caught Scottie’s attention from their party. She had no idea what the fuck was going on. She followed them to where I was. Jamie had given instructions to the ‘911’ operator. Once Scottie was in my study, she looked around in a stunned fashion and asked Jamie, “What the Hell is going on here? What happened to Madison?”

Jamie explained it as much as she could figure out. Sylvia drugged Madison. She told Scottie the study door was locked and when I didn’t answer. Jamie thought that was too odd so she broke down the door. What she saw was so disturbing, she told Scottie she couldn’t describe it, except to say that Sylvia was literally raping me. She said, I was silent. I appeared unable to speak at all.

Scottie rushed over to me. I was being attended to by the paramedics. They were taking my vitals. My pulse and heartbeat were extremely slow. They called into the ER of the nearest hospital. They told the doctor on call, they had a patient who had a weak and thready pulse. They were concerned it may be a drug overdose but not self-administered. Instead the paramedic told the doctor, she felt the patient was in shock from the effects of the drug. Also, the patient had undergone a situation where she was forcibly raped by another woman who used objects, which visibly were covered in blood, that would have cause internal injuries, possibly tearing the flesh.

The paramedic went on to describe the patient, me, that I had severe cuts on my body that were still bleeding. Other bleeding came from wounds within my mouth, and internally from inside my vaginal area. How deep the injuries were could not be detected in the field. The patient needed immediate ultrasound.

I heard what she was saying to the doctor at the ER and felt like I was in a movie theatre hearing a scene after a battle in a war zone.

The female paramedic kept giving the doctor information. She told the doctor they did not know how the drug was administered or specifically what the drug was or whether there was only one drug used. Scottie was hearing all this as she stared into my eyes. I could see her tears. She held my hand and kept squeezing it as the paramedics worked on me. Her hand felt good holding mine. It took me away from the circus going on around me.

The doctor ordered the paramedics to rush me immediately to the ER for tests and to start flushing the drugs out of my system. Once that was achieved, they would do further tests to see what kind of physical damage was caused due to the attack and rape.

The paramedics secured me to the stretcher. Once it was elevated, they rushed me out of my study, taking a route that would not bring me into the area where the party was taking place. They were trying to be as sensitive as possible and to cause the least amount of added trauma to me. I was a corpse with a pulse at this point, and a thready one at that.

What I could feel is my life slipping away. How long was I with Sylvia? How long was she using my body as her own torture victim? Time was irrelevant. It has disappeared. My mind wasn’t functioning. Jamie filled me in on all of this today. All that she was able to put together herself.

The hospital was not talking to anyone about me except Scottie. Even with Scottie, they tried to give her a difficult time seeing me. I had signed a power of attorney and a living will giving Scottie control of my health. This kept the hospital from blocking her from me and my records. So Scottie was able to find out everything there was to know at present, but she decided I didn’t need to know everything.

Scottie is a great protector but I needed to know. She felt I should talk to you, Annie. It seems she has spoken to you and filled you in. Maybe you can tell me more. Jamie told me what her perceptions picked up, but she doesn’t know everything. What really happened that night?

Dr. Virginia McKinnon, my psychiatrist here at Redcliff, won’t even tell me what she knows. Her theory is, it would be too dangerous to me to have all the information at once. She was concerned it might trigger an even stronger reaction to my feeling suicidal. The information would overload my mind, and push me closer to the edge than I am already.

A new day.

Jamie, I fell asleep last night thinking of you. My wish is for you to be my emotional lover. Someone I can have feelings for but who will not abandon me. I feel Jamie is safe. She is going to be showing up soon. After our visit, I will record what happened between us.

Later, after seeing Jamie.

Jamie told me she loved me but as a friend, not someone she had romantic feelings for. I tried to explain, I just wanted to be close. No sexual demands, strictly love, pure love. She told me we could talk about this another time. When I was stronger. It seemed it really needed a better setting than a psych hospital. She wasn’t going away, but past hugging, Jamie didn’t feel she could give that to me, even though she realized I needed someone to be close to me, to hold me. “Give Scottie a chance.” That is what Jamie suggested. I wasn’t sure Scottie would want to. Scottie was not into touching and cuddling. It wasn’t what she needed from me, to make a demand of closeness. Not really a demand but a need on my part.

I decided to tell Jamie to go. We would talk soon but I needed to rest. The truth is, I wanted to be alone. Not really alone. I wanted to think about Tosh. She had been on my mind a great deal. I have been having conversations with her for a while now. The reason I haven’t mentioned it, I thought you would think I was losing it.

Now I think it’s time for me to let Tosh back into my consciousness. She has been around, wanting me to give her my attention. Annie, you do realize who Tosh is? I know I haven’t really talked much about her but maybe I need to at least free myself to listen to her. At night, she comes to me when I am trying to go to sleep. I feel her lying next to me. It’s quite safe. She is a ghost. Not like she is going to harm me. We loved each other and were only just starting to feel our closeness. When we kissed, it was like magic. Time would slow and the sensation was deep and consuming. I don’t feel either of us ever wanted to stop kissing but life was there and calling us back to reality.

Tosh was involved with a murderous woman when she met me. As we grew closer, she broke off her relationship with her ex. That woman didn’t take it well. For now, that is all I want to say about that. I just want to think about Tosh as she is now, away from the nightmare that stole her from me. Now I just want to feel her lying next to me in silence. We talk sometimes. Tosh listens to me than gives me her response. I feel her energy touching me. It feels like a total infusion.

Maybe I need to escape this world and be with Tosh. She is the only one who wants to be with me. I need Tosh. I love Tosh and want to be with her.

I know what you’re going to say, “But Tosh is dead, how can you be with her, unless you are dead.”

That is one way, but we can be together without my having to die.

I don’t want to talk about this with you right now. I’ve said too much already. The demons are going to come now and fuck with my mind and body.

I’m going now. I have two people here who seem to like me. An older woman who tells great stories but has no idea, most of the time, who she is. Her name is Helen. The other person is much younger. She is a college student. The educational system has crushed her. She is lost. For some reason, she talks to me but no one else. I like her. I feel safe with these two woman. The young woman is an artist, painter. Her name is Lynne. I think Helen, Lynne and I could become good friends. I hope so.

Annie, you have to help me. I don’t feel like I am getting better in here. It feels like my world and mind are crumbling. My body hurts. The wounds are healing but slowly. There will be scars. What’s stored in my mind is “written in my scars.” They tell the world, someone tried to shred me in order to make me disappear. I reminded them of their inherent evil when they looked at me. She was trying to destroy me in order to keep from destroying herself. But she can’t stop the destruction. The evil will eat her alive.

Goodbye, Annie.

Madison

Ps. I may not ever return from this well of darkness, but I want you to know I remembered that we met one year ago as of 2nd October 2007. Today is the 7th of October 2008. Happy Anniversary. If it weren’t for you, I would seriously be gone now.

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

surreal spirit painting

Surreal Spirit

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Let’s Try Emotional Correctness

tell me a story
Let’s Try Emotional Correctness
TED Talk: Sally Kohn
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created on 8th January 2014
Posted On Thursday 10th April 2014
TELL ME A STORY

Let’s Try Emotional Correctness – TED Talk – Sally Kohn

It’s times for Liberals and Conservatives to transcend their political differences and really listen to what each other says.

Political Pundit: Optimistic talk. She is a progressive lesbian on FOX News.

It’s not about Political Correctness but about Emotional Correctness.

A Heartfelt Goodbye To Virginia Woolf 73 Years Later

the-living-word make the writer's diary

The Living Word

A Heartfelt Goodbye to Virginia Woolf 73 Years Later
25 January 1882 – 28 March 1941
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 23rd March 2014
Posted Friday 28th March 2014
A TRIBUTE TO VIRGINIA WOOLF

virginia woolf a writer's life quote over photo“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“Books are the mirrors of the soul.”

I can only note that the past is beautiful
because one never realises an emotion at the time.
It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete
emotions about the present, only about the past.”

“The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.”

“Love, the poet said, is woman’s whole existence.”

“The truth is, I often like women. I like their
unconventionality. I like their completeness. I
like their anonymity. ”

“I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and
I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.”

“All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.”

“For it would seem – her case proved it – that we
write, not with the fingers, but with the whole
person. The nerve which controls the pen winds
itself about every fibre of our being, threads
the heart, pierces the liver.”

“I am reading six books at once, the only way of
reading; since, as you will agree, one book is
only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the
full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.”

“So long as you write what you wish to write, that
is all that matters; and whether it matters for
ages or only for hours, nobody can say.”

“When I cannot see words curling like rings of
smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.”

“It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the sub-
merged truth sometimes makes its way to the surface.”

“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be
herself, by herself. And that was what now she often
felt the need of – to think; well not even to think.
To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing,
expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk,
with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-
shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others…
and this self having shed its attachments was free for
the strangest adventures.”

“Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly
perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.”

“Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice
answering a voice?”

“Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance,
shaped like a globe, which we turn about in our fingers.
Let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical
story, so that when one matter is despatched—love for
instance—we go on, in an orderly manner, to the next.”

“The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another
about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own
instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own
conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at
liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because
you will not allow them to fetter that independence which
is the most important quality that a reader can possess.
After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The
battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day;
but is Hamlet a better play than Lear? Nobody can say.
Each must decide that question for himself. To admit
authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our
libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read,
what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the
spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries.
Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions-
there we have none.”

“The most extraordinary thing about writing is that
when you’ve struck the right vein, tiredness goes.”

“…who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet’s
heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?”

“I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself
up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and
music and everything beautiful.”

“By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. ‘Tis the
waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs
us of our life.”

— Virginia Woolf [from Her Books & Diaries]

virginia & leonard woolf 1939 National Photo Gallery London 'the dinner party' virginia woolf

Virginia & Leonard Woolf 1939
National Photo Gallery London
The Dinner Party: Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf’s Handwritten Suicide Note to Her Husband Leonard: A Painful & Poignant Farewell [1941]

Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ’til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.

virginia woolf's monk's house garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

Leonard buried Virginia’s ashes under the two intertwined Elm trees in their backyard at Monk’s House, their summer home in Sussex. The Elm trees in which they had nicknamed “Virginia and Leonard,” the spot was marked with a stone tablet engraved with the last lines from her novel The Waves: “Against you I fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death! The waves crashed on the shore.” After Leonard Woolf died on August 14, 1969, he was cremated and his ashes were buried next to Virginia’s under the Elm Trees at Monk’s House.

The following piece of music composed by Beethoven was to be the music played at Virginia Woolf’s and Leonard Woolf’s cremation ceremony. Leonard was so filled with grief, another piece of music was played but when he was home, he played Beethoven: String Quartet Op. 130. V. Cantina: adagio molto expressivo. It is most beautiful and soothing piece of music. I understand why Virginia and Leonard Woolf chose this piece of music. It is beautiful. It gives me a sense of being with Virginia Woolf who I admire with a fullness in my heart. She has touched my soul with her words. Her essence is alive within them. Thank you for giving so much of yourself to us in your writing with such a depth of honesty and Truth. You are not forgotten.

— Jennifer Kiley

Virginia Woolf

Peace For You Virginia Woolf

Beethoven: String Quartet Op. 130: V. Cavatina: adagio molto expressivo

Private Writings: Chapter #51 — Do Not Disurb

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #51 – Do Not Disturb

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 4th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #51 — Do Not Disturb

Tuesday 26th August 2008

Dear Annie,

When I got home from our session today, Scottie told me she had some news for me. Some good news and some bad. I told her to tell me the good news first. It had to do with our film “Whispering Spirits.” It’s been in production for two months. Today there was an injury on the set. Our new star to be, Ronan Slater, was in an accident during an action scene.

Her car lost control. It flipped over several times. Upfront Scottie told me she would be alright, just not capable of doing any acting that involves movement. Out of commission for no less than four months. That is speak for an indefinite length of time. Broke her right leg and arm in several places. Has a concussion. Some lacerations I heard were quite bloody. It would have made me faint if I were there. Thank the Goddess, worst didn’t happen. She’s very much alive. Needs some plastic work on her face.

Believe me, her accident was actually the good news. You wouldn’t think so. But when you hear the bad news you will understand why. For me, it really is worse. I’m bracing myself to tell you. Let me take a hit first. Okay. Here is where the nightmares begins. Mark the time and date. Scottie hired Sylvia Kendell to replace Ronan. Never any input asked for. Reason? Sylvia was available. Isn’t she always. An immediate decision had to be made.

Scottie wants to throw an impromptu cast party in our home this Friday night, to welcome S. Kendell to “Whispering Spirits.” I can’t mind the decision. Sylvia will be perfect in the role. I can’t disagree with Scottie. Her arguments are sound. It’s a good business move if we want “Whispering Spirits” to be made now, if it’s to have any chance of being a success. I did like Ronan. If she recovers and still wants to act, I’ll write her a role to almost die for.

I’ll finish writing this letter later. After the cast party, I’ll send it off in an email. You will see it before our next session. You can start planning our method of attack for therapy.

The party started out as an intimate dinner party. They often do. It ended up with our huge home overflowing with everyone in Hollywood that night. I was sorry you couldn’t make it. Who cares about the APA Code. Frack them. I never demand you play therapist at our functions. Just like the idea you are in my home with your family and everyone is having a great time.

Jamie Stansfield showed up. I was delighted and freaked out seeing her. What happened between us the last time we were together, I still haven’t been able to explain. I could have sworn we made love. But she said nothing happened. What she remembered was flashing sparks and zooming lights flying all around them. Jamie feels it was the mushrooms she consumed. Blames it all on hallucinations.

The way she described in detail what happened, it reminds me of the exact same way I envisioned my experience with Scottie in Paris. When we were on the bridge over the Seine. The lights were so romantic. We had just finished a meal of langoustine. It’s similar to lobster but smaller. It was cooked in a creamy garlic and butter sauce. We had garlic bread and a simple salad of mushrooms, cucumber, celery and tomatoes. I don’t like lettuce in my salad. It loses its crunch. I forgot to mention, we consumed a bottle of Champagne.

Before we left the restaurant, we went off to the powder room to freshen up. We took a few hits off a joint of fine marijuana laced with sprinklings of hash. It gave the room a golden glow. I felt lighter than air. When Scottie took my hand in hers, an electric charge shot up my air, straight into my skull. What a strange feeling. Now I know something happened. The same electric charge to my skull felt the same with Jamie. There is something specific about the charges.

On the way out, Scottie generously tipped the attendant. She smiled at us and exclaimed in a very pleased voice, “Merci, mademoiselles. Tres généreux. Puissiez-vous être visité par les féerie. Ils vous donneront une soirée divine et mystique.”

saint-christopher-medal blk bg

Saint Christopher
Saint of Travelers

She handed us each a charm. Mine was St. Christopher. In college, he made me feel safe. My hero rescued me many times. The miracle rescues were mounting up. In cat lives, I was pushing my destiny to quickly.

After we were out of the restaurant, I asked Scottie what charm did she receive from the attendant. She opened her palm to reveal her charm. I stared at it. The charm was shocking to me, yet strikingly beautiful. The image of Isis, the Winged Egyptian Goddess of Wisdom. I recognized Isis immediately. Why? She holds great significance for me. When I understand what that means, I will explain it to you first. Right now, I am going to put that part out of my mind.

winged egyptian goddess isis blk bg

Isis – Winged Egyptian
Mother Goddess of Wisdom

Scottie and I decided to take a walk. The restaurant was near the Seine. We walked for a short while until we were on a bridge that crossed over the river Seine. It was there we transcended time and space. We were surrounded by the energy I felt the other night with Jamie. Why would they both tell me, when I felt that I made love to them, that nothing happened. The experience was too grand to be an hallucination. How could this happen, first of all? And the fact that it did happen, supposedly, why the same hallucination with two different women? It doesn’t make any sense.

Someone is messing with the spirit forces that surround me. I may sound crazy but I have been sensing a darkness coming. It is getting closer. What it is or who it is, I have no idea yet. I do know that Sylvia was here tonight. My whole body went into a complete chill when I saw Sylvia approaching Scottie and me. We were near the glass wall near the back of our open room, for just such occasions. The expansive window overlooked our forest of trees, the gardens, wild and tame, filled with our grand selection of flowers and plants.

Back to the dinner party that turned into the event of the season. A way to end summer and usher in the Fall Film Releases for Oscar noms.

I was happy, even with all the insane changes. Until that night, later after the party, I felt an intensely heavy depression start pulling me into the darkness. As the control from the depression pushed down on my brain, Sylvia found me alone in my study. Why her?

She encouraged me to try a new type of MJ. It was a new hybrid strain called Nighttime Black. It was an Indica. She, also, had a Sativa strain with her. It had a strange name. Let me think. I remember. Bella Twilight. We smoked the Nighttime Black. After two hits, I cut myself off. My body was floating upward from the couch. But my body was still on the couch. We were completely disconnected. Seriously, I felt paralyzed. That’s when everything started going badly. What Sylvia did next was so wrong in so many illegal ways.

Sylvia locked my study door. She closed all the curtains. When she completed her task, she sat down as close to my still body on the settee. She began removing my cloths until I was naked. I felt angry but more frightened. My body was unable to do a thing to stop her. Even my voice was shut off.

The precise word to describe what Sylvia did to me is Rape. Her vulture hands pulled at my flesh inside and out. She forced herself on me. Her lips touched mine. She felt cold to me. My savior was too leave. Floating around the room, I watched emotionless. My depression was even dampened. All I felt emotionally was alienated. Where were my heroines? Scottie, Jamie, Alison, find me. Rescue me. Please hear me. I need you now in my study.

No one broke the door down. I was beginning to feel I was insane. This could not possibly be happening to me, now. I was lost in my thoughts, wishing for help, when Jamie came crashing through my study door. Carter McLeod to my rescue and her cat James. It was actually Patrick. He jumped on Sylvia’s back. Yowling and growling, with claws deeply entrenched in Sylvia’s back the whole time.

The police were called. They arrested Sylvia. Jamie held me until the police arrived. Scottie showed up a few minutes after she heard the sirens outside approaching our home. When she saw Jamie’s arms around me, she questioned us on what was going on. Scottie sat on the other side of me. Both Jamie and Scottie held me together.

I slipped out of bed to finish this letter to you. Jamie is staying with us tonight. Our bed is full with Alison on one side of Scottie and myself on the other side. Behind me is Jamie. Do you know how warm it is to be held by both my partner and the woman I am most attracted to in the whole world outside of Scottie? It was pure bliss, even though I know in the morning I have to give the police my full statement. I was too in shock to talk to them tonight. Our lawyer, Michael explained it was her Psychoanalyst orders that she rest and not speak until she was ready. I was never going to be ready.

The cops left. We all snuggled in bed together. I can’t bear the thought of having to recall what the evil bitch did to me. It’s too much to bear. My depression has returned and feeling more powerful against me. My thoughts are on killing myself. What she did was as awful as my abuse when I was a kid. Maybe worse, it was a woman. Being abused by a female is more unexpected, so it feels more brutal. It reminds me of ‘the shadow mother’ and her treatment.

I have to stop. I will write again if I need to. Otherwise, we can talk more in our next session. I am closing this letter here. It has all been too much. If I’m in any danger of doing anything, I will call you. I promise.

That’s all I can handle for now.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Winding Spirits by Madison Taylor (c) jKm 2008

Whispering Spirits by Madison Taylor (c) jKm 2008

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

painting of a flower light colour lilac

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #50 – Fated Attraction

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #50 – Fated Attraction

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting Two Naked Ladies by Anonymous
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 25th February 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #50 — Fated Attraction

Tuesday 19th August 2008

Dear Annie,

I am going to write you an unusual letter tonight. If I get too descriptive, I apologize, but I feel you need to hear a very descriptive imagery of what happened at our dinner party. Not bringing it up in session was on purpose. This needed to be written down when I felt ready to tell you. Well, now is the time.

This is when, where, and how it all developed and happened. I am not proud or ashamed of what happened. It just felt right and I am not sure that it is going to stop. What I feel is more intense than anything I have ever felt. Except when I knew someone I have spoken of before. But I don’t want to bring her into this. It has nothing to do directly with her.

Scottie and I decided we needed to have a particular dinner party with very special guests. The list, as you know, included as hosts, Scottie, Alison and myself. Our guests were you, Annie, and your husband Alex and daughter Rainer, my friend Lady Chablis, and our special guest Jamie Stansfield, our hero Carter from Brief Sacrifice.

At the party, we broke off into pairs. I spent time with Jamie. Scottie talks with Alex. Rainer hangs out with Alison. You, Annie, hang out with my friend Lady Chablis, the famous actress, not to be named here. You must have enjoyed her company. She is fabulous. I hope Alex enjoyed Scottie’s company.

I went off and got stoned with Jamie. I needed to. Someone needed to kiss someone. I felt attracted to Jamie already but the kiss secured it. Jamie kissed me and I wanted it. My usual withdrawal to anything physical, especially physical touching leading to anything sexual freaks me out on the inside only. I never show anybody it bothers me to be touched. It doesn’t stop them. So why should I let them know how being touched affects me. It leaves one too exposed for anyone to know.

Jamie caught me off-guard when she brought her face close to mine. My breathing became shallow. Jamie took my face into her hands. Her lips touched mine very gently. My insides were all in a muddle. I was melting from the heat filling my body up. I hadn’t felt this deep a physical feeling since that day. A day needing a lifetime of therapy. Not the day She died in my arms. That was love. I mean when one of my abusers did the worse thing you can do to a child against their will. I really can’t talk about it now. Too painful. Too shameful. Something that never should have happened and been stole from me. A memory that warped my mind, haunts my every memory, and flashes behind my eyes at the mere feeling of it.

I took Jamie’s hand, led her to my study, where I locked the door. Jamie sat down on the settee. I went to get two glasses, a bottle of brandy, and a pipe filled with some fine cannabis. I have a prescription for my nerves and the pain in my back. Haven’t I ever mentioned the Medicinal Marijuana? It helps with my memory, too. Right now, all I have left is a scar on my back.

Steel stabbed through my body that night. I lost so much blood I came close to walking the white road. But what was worse, the woman I wished for, I dreamed of, I had, was stolen from me that night. My wound healed on the outside but my life was still stolen when her life was taken away from me. That is my selfish attitude. Of course, I know she was stolen from the rest of the world inside her life. Even if they were worthless, with maybe one exception, the rest tried to suck out her soul. I protected her by not letting them near her. That was what she wanted. But when that wasn’t enough they tried to kill me but she put herself between us.

Does anyone ever get over being murdered? Or having someone save your life by sacrificing theirs?

I am moving past this into the next passage, where I am going to get subliminally graphic. Just thought I would put in a WARNING ALERT. I feel a need to describe it. Bare with me. Jamie and I have entered into my study slash library. So, back to Jamie, if you will.

“Here we are, Jamie. Take a glass, please.” I poured her glass first. After placing my drink on the edge of the desk, I took out the pipe I had filled with pot. It had a similar effect to that of Thai weed. Do you remember it? I took one hit, passed the pipe and lighter to Jamie. When she smoked her hit, she carefully put the pipe on the desk. I motioned Jamie to sit closer.

Her body now touched mine. The sensation made my heart pound. I could feel it in my throat. Jamie’s hand began caressing the length of my neck. I reached my right hand around to the back of Jamie’s neck and brought her head close to my face. Our lips touched in slow motion. Feeling the change of their shape as the pressures varied and our mouths blended together. A feeling of an endless embrace, falling into the sensation, with no parting of lips ever to come. The depth of feelings traveling from my lips through my body, were nothing I had felt before. Everything was so new and alive. Her hands found places on my body where her skin melted through my clothing into my body. We had joined together as if one being possessed by another in a permanent embrace. No ending, just eternity.

Feeling all of this was a total surprise for me. I have desired feeling this way and never found a person I trusted enough to surrender to in this way. I love Scottie but she never understood my need for her to be patient. She was rough in as gentle a way as possible. But with Jamie, it was soft and sensual. No one ever touched me this way, not since the night my elusive dream was stolen. Dreams are what they are. I woke up and it was over. My life disappeared until I met Scottie. With her I regained life. One with safety and security and a very active sex life. One we enjoyed while high on drugs and alcohol.

It was a creative sex life. We experimented, trying anything new that seemed it would be exciting. But something was missing. Not anything inside of Scottie. It was inside of me, or better expressed, something missing from inside of my mind and body. A disconnection that occurred at a specific moment in the touch of love making. It was when my body wanted to give up control. My mind wouldn’t let go and my body followed. All shut down abruptly and completely. It was the end of feeling anything.

A dilemma which has consistently occurred throughout my life. It all started with one particular abuser. He stole something one cannot find after it has been taken. It was more than rape. It was stealing my sexual freedom. The art of completely letting go. Something most people desire in their life. I am able to do it with my painting and writing but not with my body. She doesn’t belong to me. Maybe it even does effect my art.

Jamie has reawakened something in me that only one other person was able to find. A complete abandon and enjoyment of freedom and letting go, releasing the spirit to scream in ecstasy, joy and bliss.

It may not be fair to Scottie. Never have I been with anyone sexually, where I willingly wanted someone to touch me. More than willingly. I could not resist wanting her hands on my body. Her lips touching mine. I wanted to be consumed by her. I wanted us to melt into each other where our energy and souls became one forever. Never to separate again.

I describe wanting her to touch me. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to touch someone. My hands wanted to reach out and touch her face, to make sure she was real, not in my imagination. Her skin was warm. Touching her skin made me feel electric. The nerves inside of me were lit by currents of energy. Every connection in my body was flowing together. I wanted to be lost in her forever.

I knew the moment must end. Life would return to normal but it was normal. I felt something alive and real. Someone who understood my fear and magically made it disappear. It’s not being sexual that brought me back to life. It was letting the touch in, and allowing myself to be free to feel her hands on my skin and inside my flesh. It was the joining of love.

I love Jamie. I always felt her specialness. We are soul mates of a different kind. Not what books are written about. No one writes about being made to feel whole with someone else, without it having to be sexual. It is a bonding that merges power and spiritual energy. A sharing of being alive and feeling real. It isn’t easy to do and is rarer than it should be. I have found it three times in my life. We all mistake sex for love. Sex is sex. Love may happen when sex is happening. But Love stands strongly on its own. Love is the power that makes everything alive and real. It is what I have been searching for my entire life. It is so special but rare. Be gentle when you find it. I hope I have found it with Jamie.

Don’t lose hope, Annie. I love Scottie and want to be with her beyond the beyond. But I want to be with Jamie, too. And all those people who I feel close with now and I have felt bonded with in my past. A short list but one I will feel connected to forever.

I have reached the end of this letter. There will be more. It is an interesting read, I am quite certain you found that out Annie.

But that is all for now.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

Before the end, I would like to send a thought to Jamie with all my love. I want to say to her, if I had the courage, I would tell you, it isn’t about sex at all. My abusers planted the dark seed inside of me and it blocked out the light so I could not see what was real. Just a distortion came through of moderating sex by ascribing it as the only way love is expressed. But that is a lie. It truly is not about sex. It is about bonding and feeling whole with the person you love. All relationships are different. The ones which make you come alive and feel real inside are rare. Treat them with respect and give freely of your love. This is the purist of feelings and the richest of relationships. A friendship created from out of the depths of pure love.

“The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Learn Is Just To Love And Be Loved In Return.”

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Two Naked Ladies - Anonymous

Two Naked Ladies – Anonymous

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

flower of great beauty purple dk and lt yellow

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Madison's Study/Library

Madison’s Study/Library

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #49 – Got To Get You Into My Life

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #49 – Got To Get You Into My Life

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Gustav Klimpt – The Embrace
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 18th February 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #49 – Got To Get You Into My Life

Tuesday 12th August 2008

Dear Annie,

Before I get into what I want to write specifically, I wanted to bring up Alison Porter. Scottie and my adopted daughter. Since she returned from Yale Acting School, she has been working at our studio, doing odd jobs. Watching Scottie and I work. Well, it hasn’t been officially announced. Alison is going to be in our next film. I wrote a screenplay for her. She will be starring opposite someone very special to me.

This is where the story begins and where the letter I want to write has started. Just before my grandmother died she encouraged me to find someone outside of the family with whom I could look up to for guidance. There wasn’t anybody. My grandmother knew of my aspirations for wanting to write film scripts and to be part of making films. There was an actress my grandmother felt was incredible and she wanted me to meet her. My grandmother knew her. She knew everyone or they knew her. One of the wealthiest women in the country. She became the person who took over emotionally when my grandmother died. I can’t explain my feelings. My grandmother was my world. When she died I went a bit mad. The actress my grandmother introduced me to, one day called me. We talked and talked about everything. Her call was to tell me she was here for me. Whenever I needed or wanted to contact her, she gave me her contact information for anywhere she might be reached. It didn’t take long to grow close. I believe I fell in love with her. The woman I loved as an actor and now I love as my closest friend ever. I never saw this friendship coming. Or that we would ever meet.

I think it made it easier when I met Scottie and after college we both got inside the film world. Scottie really liked my actor friend right away. She approves of her relationship with me and the feeling is mutual on the other end. She was married to a man, a director, who loved her madly and she loved him equally as strong. He encouraged our friendship. The feelings are very special between us. I loved her when I was growing up and still feel the same strength of feeling I’ve always felt toward her. When I see her photographs or hear her voice I become transfixed and excited. I belong to an online group who feel the same way.

When I was a kid she was a child star and part of my fantasy world. I thought I would meet her brother Chris some day and marry him. Then we’d be family. I was so absorbed with her. We talked on the phone when I was a teenager. This was before my grandmother introduced us over the phone. My grandmother told me great stories about her. First, she moved here from England when she was pretty little. She acted on the stage starting really young. She trained at The Actors Studio. Her first performance on Broadway was in Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie. I saw that play when I was 12. It was confusing to me at the time. I felt like the girl in the play. Everything I owned was broken including myself.

Let’s be less serious. One day, I called the studio where she was working, she was gone for the day. I told them it was important that I reach her and that I was a friend of her therapist, would they please give me her number. The person gave it to me without question. Of course, I knew her therapist, my grandmother told me they saw the same Psychoanalyst, so I used the name. I’m sure it’s why the person at the studio felt so free in giving me her number. Anyway I called her. I had witnesses. Her assistant answered the phone. I got up the courage and asked to speak to her.

She said, “Just a moment please.

Shortly, she came to the phone. She would have been about 18 yrs old then. I was only 3 years younger. We chatted for what seemed like a long time. She was wonderful. We both enjoyed the conversation. Before we said goodbye, I told her about my grandmother and asked if we could talk again some time. I knew it was a huge risk, an imposition but she so enjoyed our talk, and agreed. We exchanged our information. I had her number, so she wanted mine and my mailing address too. She gave me hers, also. Then we hung up our phones.

I proceeded to faint. It was one of the highest moments of my life. Everyone who knew me knew how I felt about her. They all thought I was mental and weird. I didn’t care. My grandmother was right about her. I loved them both. Her movies were seen multiple times by me. When I say multiple I mean over 20 times while in the theatres and more times when they hit DVD. She has been in Oscar winning films for Best Film and she has won Best Actress once and nominated several times. We have most of her movies in our collection except the ones that are not available.

After my grandmother died, I became lost, a touch mad. She called one day shortly after the funeral. What she said to me has had such a profound effect on my life since that day. We have kept up our friendship ever since. We chat everyday now. I leave messages for her and next day there would be an answer back. And on our cells, we both love to text, so we do that all of the time. It drives Scottie nuts.

It is great to have a friend I feel I can trust with telling her anything. I never told you her name. I will some day. For now let us refer to her as Lady Chablis. I love her so much that I want her in my life forever.

She disappeared a few years ago. Just for awhile. Her incredible husband died. She went to France to heal but will never forget him. I received a letter from her in today’s mail. She is on her way back to the states and she is suppose to arrive today in L.A. I texted her right away. She got back to me and we made plans to meet. Later today. We have never met in person. It’s not that unusual for me. I live online or at the studio. I will write the rest of this letter after I get back from spending time with her. I am so excited and enormously overwhelmed. It just takes my breath away. What will we talk about? I know don’t be silly.

Later. Got to get ready. You will hear all about it when I return.

How wild was that. I am in love with her. When we hugged for the first time, I got lost in her arms. It didn’t feel like she wanted to let go either. We talked like we had been together in person for years. Everything between us was natural. Lady Chablis is my best friend. She really is my best friend. Scottie will understand if I have something special with Lady Chablis. Scottie knows I love her beyond time. Lady Chablis is someone so special only my grandmother ever brought these feelings out in me. Now I feel them for L.C. … She is forever just like my grandmother. It made for the most perfect day ever.

That’s all for now.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Gustav Klimt The Embrace

Gustav Klimt The Embrace

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Orchid_flower 5 blue dk blue 4 lady blue

Orchid Blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own imaginations”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bg

Medical Marijuana MMJ

Private Writings: Chapter #43 — They Say It’s Your Birthday

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #43 — They Say It’s Your Birthday

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 14th January 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #43 — They Say It’s Your Birthday

Tuesday 8th July 2008

Dear Annie,

I want to teach Alison what love is. Safe, protective love, from women who are not abusers of any kind. We love Alison. Scottie as much as I do. It is so equal. Scottie may never have wanted children. When she met Alison, then thirteen, her heart opened. A teenager, whose history was sad and filled with pain. Being abandoned by a father who overdosed in her presence. Tried to get her to shot up with him. Alison’s mother died the same way, but earlier. Pure horse. Not cut properly. Way too rich and potent. The authorities were going to through her in a home overflowing with violence. The children of the damned whose souls were crushed out. Alison still has her’s. That is one fortunate gift not taken away or ever given.

Everyone needs and deserves to feel love surround them, to feel whole. When I was a kid I didn’t know love. It’s why I understand Alison as well as I do. I do not profess to say I even come close to understanding what’s really inside of her but I want to know if she ever wants to share. Learning about love is almost as fresh with me as it is with Alison. She will teach me more than I will ever be able to teach her, but it will be good for all of us to be a family, safe and secure for Alison, Scottie and me. It will feel good to be family in a legal sense.

We never adopted her before now. The laws prevented the adoption. Now Scottie, pulled strings and got a judge on her side. The three of us met privately in Judge Severin’s chamber. The paperwork had been filed. It was a matter of tidying up all loopholes. No one would be able to challenge the adoption on appeal or out of malicious homophobic prejudice.

Did I ever tell you Alison met me first. I was doing research in the Family Court for a script. Alison’s case was called before Judge Severin. It was a tragic situation about to become worse. No family came forward to claim her. No foster home wanted her. She was a runaway. Too young to be on her own, she was coaxed, more like forced, by a pimp to be his young protégé. He kidnapped her and was forcing her to take on this brutal John. Alison was trapped but intelligent. When she was alone with the brute in a hotel room, she set off such an alarm, every public servant seemed to show up. The police were among them. Everyone was arrested, including the pimp and the brute he was going to force upon Alison.

Here she was now, being arraigned on charges of prostitution. She pleaded not guilty. The Judge ordered her to be held until trial in the L.A. County Juvenile Facility. I had heard terrible stories about that place. I stood up and asked to speak. Judge Severin recognized me and gave me permission to state my case.

“I don’t think it is necessary to remand her to being imprisoned in such a cruel setting as the L.A.J.F.. Is there any alternative you would accept?”

“Short of finding a home, where someone will look after her and be sure she appears before this court for her hearing. No, I see no other recourse.” Judge Severin banged her gavel.

“One moment, please. Let me state for this court, I am willing to offer the home you suggest. And I will take the responsibility of seeing she appears before you when her next court date is set. Is that fair enough, your honour.”

I must have been pretty persuasive or the Judge was in a generous mood.

“You may take her home with you on the following conditions. You see she is safe. You take it upon yourself to promise to take good care of Ms. Alison Porter. You promise to read a brief I am going to share with you. I want you to know what kind of responsibility you are bringing into your life. If that is acceptable and after you read her history, you still want to take her home, then I will not stand in your way with any objections.”

Sure enough, I sat in the courtroom and read the material from the Judge. Alison was led away to a waiting area. Food and drink were provided her while she waited. It didn’t take long. I am a speed reader. Nothing in the brief scared me, as I suspected the Judge thought it would.

“I agree with all your demands, your honour. Please have someone take me to Alison and let me tell her the news. From there, if she is willing, I would like to get the girl home, in a safe environment for the first time in her life. And make her feel welcome in my home, which will be her home.”

The officer of the court led me to the room where Alison was waiting. She jumped up when she saw me enter. She wasn’t exactly hostile but she wasn’t trusting either at my offer. I tried talking to Alison, as we road to our home in Matthew, my black Honda CRV. Always named my cars. It makes me feel much safer if they have names.

“Alison, I think you will like where I live. It’s very large. You will have your own rooms. They will be in your control. If you don’t want someone in any of them, just say the magic words, ‘Go away, I want to be left alone.’ You are going to be living there, so you should treat it like home.”

“It isn’t going to be my home, so why should I act like it is?”

“Why don’t we wait to talk about this? Once we arrive, you may feel different. After you get settled and have a good meal, you may start to relax and see everything differently. No pressure, though. I can’t wait until you meet Scottie. We live together. Scottie is a woman, just in case the name might have made you think otherwise.”

“You’re lesbians?”

“Yes, actually. Quite the lesbians, we are.”

“Will that be a problem?” I asked.

“No, not at all.”

Alison’s voice sounded relieved. I thought, Annie, when I answered yes to the lesbian question, I wasn’t too sure how she was going to react. I was relieved by Alison’s reaction myself. It felt like the tension had escaped from inside of us both. But I hadn’t told Scottie yet, what had I done? I treat Alison like a puppy dog and now I am going to seek Scottie’s permission to keep her. There wasn’t anything else I could do. Yes, I could have texted her but not the same thing. With Scottie, it had to be in person. There was no time to think, I just knew I had to reach out to this innocent girl. Her life had been a tragedy up to this point. I read the Judge’s brief. It was enough to know I couldn’t walk away and I knew, somehow, Scottie would understand and feel the same.

With my childhood, Scottie learned how some children bearly survive their nightmares, especially when they are so real. She will understand my wanting to protect Alison. I felt so strong a need to rescue her, whether she wanted to be or knew she needed to be.

As I drove over the bridge to our drive, I saw Scottie out by the stream across from+ the side of the Chateau. She saw Matthew approaching and me driving but I don’t think she noticed the passenger. I pulled up to park in my usual place near the front door. Scottie ran up to greet me. After I got out, I hugged Scottie. As we held each other, the passenger door opened. Out came Alison, starring at the two of us. Scottie turned when she heard the car door close.

Alison stared at us both. It was not a stare of contempt but just the opposite. She broke out a small smile and in a low voice said, “Hi,” to Scottie.

“Hello back.” Scottie broke our hug and went to the other side of the car to greet this new young girl in our driveway. “Welcome.” Scottie took Alison’s hand and gave it a warm, firm shake. “Would anyone like to introduce us?”

I did the introductions and we all walked over to the front door and entered our home together. Alison didn’t know that then, nor did any of us. But it did happen. That was the first day of Alison coming to stay forever. Now we are officially able to adopt her. Already, she is our daughter in all the right ways and in other ways.

It is a good thing that we all officially become family. It will give Alison as well as myself a safer sense of security. I think Scottie loves the idea as much as the rest of us. We are going to be Alison’s mothers in writing, in all legalize. Happy Mother’s Day, Scottie, and a Happy Mother’s Day to myself.

I always wished when I was a kid that someone like me would come along and rescue me from my nightmare. Never did happen. But now I have Scottie and Alison. Our wonderful loving family. All ours. No one can pull us apart. We are all safe together. And the adoption happened on a very special day for Alison. It’s her birthday. Happy Birthday to you, Alison. Welcome to our whole family now.

Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.

So, until I see you, I will end with my favorite quote from the film “Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

For you, I will end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

happy-birthday-pw

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Early Purple Orchids

Early Purple Orchids

rain in garden gif

Dreaming Memories
By Madison Taylor
8th July 2008
Dedicated to C.D.
A Very Special Friend
Touched with Words of Inspiration

Dreaming memories
Sweet sadness talking
Tears falling
Clouds darkening
Night approaching

Dreaming memories
Ones I want
Grass beneath us
Warm breeze
Sounds fading

Dreaming memories
Glowing flowers
Blue green yellow
Thorns vanished
Horns blasting

Dreaming memories
Wishing you were there
Haunted thoughts
Vanished shadows
Danger surrounded

Dreaming memories
Carousel horse
Uplifted to meet it
Alone riding
Stoned writing

Dreaming memories
Honesty revealed
Shadows dancing
Always younger
Going back there

Dreaming memories
Connection made
Distance possible
Stopping nothing
Waves crashing

Dreaming memories
Spying lying
Touching taking
Save a soul
Makes a Savior

© madison taylor 2008

Faces - by Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014

Faces – by Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #41 — The Killing

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #41 — The Killing

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 31st December 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

It’s the Way You Love Me

Private Writings: Chapter #41 — The Killing

Tuesday 24th June 2008

Dear Annie,

One of our animals died. Molly, my horse, at least the one I always ride. She lived 34 years. It was a week of joy and flips over to death from being way too old to be alive. What makes the best age to die? If life gets out of control. You feel you have no future. Those who earn from you, aren’t earning. What is the solution to this problem? Who earns more, a live Picasso, or a dead John Lennon?

Why do those we let in, who we get close to, have to die? Which means another abandonment. I am so much closer to animals. Scottie called one of our exotic companion animals a human. At first, I thought I heard wrong. Just think deeply. They are human. Animals are. I’m sure the Christian Right would balk at being put on the same level of animals. Their feeling of being in the highest order is a birthright. A convincing argument for their feeling of superiority. Everyone else should starve to death.

Not my belief. Animals are righteous. The higher level belongs to them. They don’t work for a living, they just live. No reporting to a 9 to 5. No boss. Yes, there is a hierarchy with animals but so different than how people have fucked over who we are and how we live. It’s a hierarchy of a few who own the controlling interest of the world. Then there are the slaves, bearly making it from day to day.

It feels strange to lose someone. Molly has been in my life for over half the time I’ve been alive. I’ve known her since I witnessed her birth. In the heat of a late summer’s night. Now she is gone. I don’t do loss very well. And right now, I want to feel great having Alison back.

She got right into the business. Scottie took her to our studio today. Editing on “Touched by the Spirit” needs attention. Alison is “jumping right into the deep end.” Who came up with that line? It tends to get you drowned. I, literally, did it once, and pretty nearly didn’t survive. It is a haunting. Someone wants me to die inhaling water rather than air. No last breath of that to go out on. Hope it is not an Omen. Don’t want to die that way.

Do I have a particular way I would like to go out taking my last bow? First, I would like to be healthy the rest of my life. Second, I want to create till the very end, my mind would be quick, witty and sharp. Third, I want to drift off inside the best dream ever and drift away forever inside my dream. Everyone I love would be there or join me there. An after-life filled with all the ultimate pleasures surrounded by love and bliss.

Death is all around me. My senses are always connecting close to the edge of time and infinity. We may close off the reception but it is there waiting to break through into my consciousness.

It feels good to have our family together. Alison fits perfectly. No jealousy. Pure love, respect and caring all around us. I think it makes a difference Alison having her own home on the estate. The Chateau de Rocher is always her home but she needs her own home, where she can build her life. We made a pack to always eat dinners together when the film allows it or if any one of us has an important private engagement. We, Scottie and I, want Alison to have a personal life.

Curious, we never discussed with Alison what her inclination with intimacy and where her crushing love swings. She has never shown a personal interest in either sex or transgender individuals. She doesn’t seem interested in or notices others who might be attracted to her. Never gave time to romantic closeness. Should we be concerned?

Not everyone is interested in sexual intimacy or relationships with a romantic undercurrent. She rejects any possibilities of engaging with anyone. No reason to be concerned. Alison never talked or wrote about anyone special. She had friends but nothing ever went beyond the closeness of a friendship.

Are we good parents to not get into a discussion with Alison? She may not know how to talk to anyone about closeness of an intimate nature. I feel for her. Not my strongest ability growing up with my morally corrupt family. I didn’t know I needed someone to talk to me. Not something I did growing up, talking. Strictly quiet unless I lost it and began crying.

When that happened, all scattered, abandoning me with the Shadow Mother. A Bogeyman of the scariest kind. They hide in the shadows under your bed or in the closet while the light is switched off, only came out at night. Daytime, they would transform from shadows, entering into people who accepted their terms. Anything goes, and not of the musical kind.

My mother was one of those, who made the deal. She became possessed by evil. Her punishment was calculating and torturous. A former member of the Spanish Inquisition. One of the Torturers. She especially liked hot burning items, silk scarves to bide hands and silencing any noise coming from my mouth, and devices for striking the flesh. Often whips of various lengths and bites. Right out of the cupboards of the Marquis de Sade. Sadistic and Masochistic. With the Shadow Mother there were no safe words. I am not so sure if the Marquis de Sade had them either.

The Shadow Mother has been dismissed. Will that stop her hauntings? Sometimes it’s important to out your daemons, in order to steal their power away. What happens then? I certainly don’t want it. No desire to be evil. I just want to feel. Let it be joy but tears are a form of bliss. Laughter through tears, the deepest feelings are evoked. Let sadness in. It isn’t meant to be rejected. Depression will secure a space if the truth of emotions are not allowed freedom of expression.

Some law should be carved into the Constitution: Freedom of Emotions, but unlike guns, no one is allowed to do harm.

It has been an elevator ride this week with moods. Manic, excited, happy our girl is home. Exhausted with sadness, our Molly is gone. It was too sudden. Death should be required to give fair notice. Not with misery but with time to prepare. And no, one should not prepare for death the moment we are born. “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.” I suppose death feels the same.

Let’s switch to optimism and an endless supply of time.

It’s time for “Brief Sacrifice” and my favorite closing line.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

For you, I will end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Energy --- Artist & Founder Julia Watkins [Energism Art]

Energy — Artist & Founder Julia Watkins [Energism Art]


Somewhere In Time – John Barry

colourful bunch of flowers DArt do

rain in garden gif

Pure Ecstasy
By Madison Taylor
24th June 2008

Become
That which lives within
We are free

Being
The spirit alive
In our nature
Fighting the darkness

Entrance
Into the world
Through accidental
Analytical intention

Mysticism
Pours forth
Ideas words thoughts images
Carrying projections
Floating inside imagination

Consciousness
Kept protected and hidden
Now is free

Acceptance
Enthusiastic
Cautious
Anticipating
Thrilling

Beyond
Overwhelmingly good
Creating a heightened state
Of pure ecstasy

© madison taylor 2008

Cirque Foncé by jkmccormack (c) JkM 2007

Cirque Foncé by jkmccormack (c) jKm 2007

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep

“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibilities.”
— Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #40 — Dreams Remembered Past

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #40 — Dreams Remembered Past

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 24th December 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Not Afraid

Private Writings: Chapter #40 — Dreams Remembered Past

Tuesday 17th June 2008

Dear Annie,

The most wonderful news, I didn’t remember to share in our session. I’ve been trying so hard to keep it a surprise for Scottie, I forgot to tell even you. It is something we are going to probably need to talk about from time to time. Our daughter. Alison, is returning home from college after being away on the East Coast for seven years. She is our adopted daughter. Her last name is Porter. She was in foster care for almost 18 years and checked out of it 7 years ago. She had no other home to go to and was looking for work. We had advertised a job, looking for an assistant to our production company, Infinite Imaginations, Inc. Scottie hired her. Introduced me later that same day. I liked her right away and asked her to come to dinner that very night.

She told us many stories while we ate and after dinner by the fireplace. We sat around and continued to listen. So many books and stories to fill many books, that is what this young girl had lived through and then she was before us, entertaining us. It got really late so we invited her to sleep over. There was a great bedroom in the guest wing of the house. I guided her to it. Showed her where everything was and wished her a good sleep.

Next morning, Scottie sat us both down at the kitchen table. She had made French Toast. As we were sipping our juice and eating, Scottie asked Alison if she would consider being her personal assistant. It would mean working with her at the studio, hitting the road with her and spending a great deal of time at their home. Scottie looked at me, knowing she hadn’t talked with me, it surprised us both. I smiled my okay. I approved wholeheartedly. Scottie skipped straight to a whole new level of a higher obligation. Scottie told Alison, she wanted her to live at the Chateau de Rocher, our home. It was a matter of convenience, when she needed Alison, she would be close. I saw the smile and excitement on Alison’s face. I think they both awaited a cue of approval from me.

“Welcome to the Neighborhood.” I said to Scottie and Alison.

Alison was thrilled. She accepted Scottie’s generous offer.

We discussed it. She was going to be given the section of rooms of the mansion she had slept in the night before. It was settled. We would get help to make it easier for Alison to move in right away. We would all take the day off of work and celebrate. There was just something about Alison that drew us to her. She was filled with love. Abandoned so young. It was easy to care and to want to take care of her.

It didn’t take long before we wanted to make her more than an employee. We felt she needed schooling if she wanted to go into the art of filmmaking full time. She talked of acting and directing and wanted to know how to do editing. Everything, it all interested Alison. When we thought acting and learning film making, three places came to mind, all on the East Coast. The other side of the country from us. That is around the world for me. But it wasn’t a time to be selfish. Besides she wanted to come back. We would make her part of our Infinite Imaginations, Inc. So, it seemed right to send her to Yale Drama School and NYU. They would be perfect. If not Yale, than Bennington College would be perfect. Having gone to each of those schools ourselves, we knew them and the areas Alison would be living. We would set it all up.

The three of us talked it over. Scottie would show Alison these schools. It meant separation but she had become family. She would be an integral part of the family business when she returned. Neither of us would lose the two other. To secure the last part, family business, Scottie and I talked. We concluded to speak with Alison. Feeling clumsy with the words, Scottie asked Alison if she would like us, me and herself, to adopt her. It would be tricky since, we couldn’t technically marry, we’d have to each adopt her separately. We would both be her moms, but we would be connected by her. Special exception and creating a confusing law. It was difficult to do and whether it was sound legally, we were a family and our new daughter was Alison Porter.

So, I am so excited, she returns later today, after seven years of schooling. Scottie visited her and I spent a lot of time online writing to her and talking to her all the time. I adore her to pieces. She is my little girl and she is Scottie’s young daughter. We couldn’t love each other more. It will be so strange to see her but I am overjoyed with excitement. Scottie doesn’t know she got out a week ahead of schedule, so she thinks Alison isn’t due home for 7 more days. So when we have a special meal presented and an extra place setting, Scottie will be curious for all of 2 minutes and in will come Alison all set to eat.

I will tell you in person, the full details of the homecoming. Every last detail. It will be a grand party. Excitement has taken hold of me. Can’t wait to see Scottie’s face and Alison. She doesn’t know either that Scottie hasn’t a clue she is coming home tonight. Surprising them both. My pleasure.

Alright, I need to spend part of my letter on a dream. It didn’t come back to me during our session but it has returned in vivid living color. In exact detail to what happened. It’s important to record the whole set of dreams, so I am writing them down in as much detail as I remember.

Last night, I was dreaming, I looked and behaved like Cinderella. I had things to do for other people when they commanded me to. The first chore was to make a cake inside a rich lady’s limo. Who she is symbolically is someone I felt beneath or she felt above me. A matter of perspective. Time passes. Physically, I am sweeping the floor of our families’ NYC store on Fifth Ave. My father, who is always very critical of me, is present. Representing himself exactly the way he was in real life. A creepy business man. Anything was for sale. His reference to me, I wasn’t doing it fast enough. Means, I didn’t respond to his commands immediately. Fighting back was not acceptable, but I did it anyway. I suffered for that in real life.

The situation changes. We are in the front part of the store, where a party is fully engaged. But I continued sweeping. What is so symbolic of sweeping? You clean the surfaces one walks on. No foot prints can be seen if the floor is spotless and neat. But everyone kept on making messes. When I returned to the back part of the store, painters were scraping the walls. Once again, I swept up the shavings, but they kept on making more. The messes kept being made.

My mother stopped but didn’t look at me. She told me not to bother, though. I become angry. But it was my father I yelled at. My internal anger and rage were exploding. My response was to start punching my father and my brother Drew. So, I did. I punch them both. I wanted to punch them.

I wake up feeling angry. My sense of time was off. It felt late, yet it was still early. Early to me is late morning. The dream felt as though it had just happened, like I had been transported through time. That’s the kind of real I felt. My three least favorite people in the entire world and they walk into my dreams. They make it the nightmare.

They are not invited to Alison’s Homecoming party. I don’t want them anywhere near our daughter. Scottie feels the same about this. They will never be allowed near Alison. We are afraid they would harm her. They have extremely strong feelings about our life style. Also, they think they are entitled to inherit our fortune. We earned every cent. They gave us no help. Homophobic Republican Right, it fits them so well. GO Fuck them.

And my brother Drew, I hate to even use his name, but you should know about him. There is too much to tell but I will share one short sentence. He is a silent sexual predator who wants his baby sister still. Not as someone grownup. That is why I hate them and he creeps me out. There are many layers of evil in the three of them but the top layer is all I can cope with, Annie. I blocked them from my life. And now it is our life I must protect. Most of the time, I put these three out of my mind. It’s much healthier.

So, why Cinderella? Was I a slave? Yes, but not to do cleaning. My job was disgusting. No one asked permission if I wanted any of it. I imagined my savior would come along. Eventually, Scottie did and before I met Scottie, I escaped away at college. The professional student, taking class after class. Through out summer and winter, so I never had to return to that fucked up home, filled with nothing but perversion and punishment. I’m never going back. So, why in my dreams, returning to that place of evil? What I don’t know, I need to learn? How can I be free of their haunting. Annie, I need your help figuring this out.

Really, let’s talk about this next week.

It’s time for “Brief Sacrifice” and my favorite closing line.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

For you, I will end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Cinderella Oil Painting Reproduction

Cinderella Oil Painting Reproduction

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Robert Mapplethorpe Purple Irises or Orchids Golden

Robert Mapplethorpe Purple Irises or Orchids Golden

rain in garden gif

Love Renders Things of Dreams
By Madison Taylor
10th June 2008

Love returns
Dreams are places
Remembering their center
Not looking at the edges
It’s where the shadows watch
Plotting their own finish

They have eternity to plan
Destiny needing a plan
A future
For what?

With tomorrows
Wishes will come
Sitting at tables
Looking for glimpses
Memories worth holding

Memory books filled
Dreams awakened
Did they ever happen
The screams
No one heard

How easy
We forget
Remember the ease
A sled falling
Down the slope
It was too fast

Time needs movement
The way we slowly crawl
We need balance
Our life
It is happening

Need to coordinate
Necessary new rules
Everything can reset
Start the time
At the beginning
All over
Again.

© madison taylor 2008

Rabbits Run aka Boris & Natasha by jkmccormack (c) JkM 2007

Rabbits Run aka Boris & Natasha by jkmccormack (c) jKm 2007

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #39 — Demons in Disguise Are Lying

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #39 — Demons in Disguise Are Lying

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 17th December 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell, psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
my choice in form of storytelling is using letters with dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, describing my scripts, recent one ‘brief sacrifice,’ film due to be released,
psychotherapy, psychoanalysis, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner & outer workings
of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar—prefer mentally creative, or interesting,
or a brain misfiring; in the mix are abuse, crashes, near drownings, illegal drugs presently,
hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, the never ending need to discover my self, my soul, my eternal serenity, my bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Sympathy for the Devil – The Rolling Stones

Private Writings: Chapter #39 — Demons in Disguise Are Lying

Tuesday 10th June 2008

Dear Annie,

I have a confession to make, that scares me. Not being certain how you will react, makes the words difficult to say out loud. You are always stressing how some feelings may be inappropriate. How am I to understand what is inappropriate, without you knowing how I feel?

With me, I need to trust someone before I can talk about closeness. Particularly, as it pertains to love. And truthfully, I am not sure I would recognize trust, closeness & love if it were smashing me in the heart.

While we were in Paris, Scottie told me I get infatuated way too easily. My brain ceases to function when I find myself attracted to anyone. Any ability to see the truth gets murky. I end up being lured into following the darkness. Where I end up in web-like tangles inside my mind. Spiders surround my senses and I end up eventually staring at the head of a serpent with a narrow darting tongue, forked at the tip, smelling my skin by touching it.

I am trapped before I realize, I have been seduced by an innocent facade of a demon in disguise. Within this creature, who coaxed me into her power, I find where the soul should be, there lies a blackened shape, hardened with sharp, jagged edges.

Of course, I never perceive the deception or the evil hiding inside the lovely, exterior costume. What appears in my eyes are the soft, sensual lines of her features. Her eyes hidden beneath dark glasses. That is so sexy. A voice smoothly speaking words with a gentle accent, French or British, with the tenderness of tones. Her words are intelligent and used in such a perfect way. Knowing the language of seduction of an innocent young woman, clueless to deception. This is how I am drawn in. And through her continuous manipulation, I am hers. She owns me.

My soul does not join with darkness. The two repel like a friend to an enemy. Being tricked by a facade is not unusual when infatuation strikes. My recent closeness with Scottie has awakened an urgent need and desire for more closeness. Yet, I flee from what can be mine and now seek the dangerous and lethal.

You, Annie, are my dangerous temptation. Safe territory surrounds your life. A child & husband, a happy marriage, maybe not happy, that is the value I choose to place on your closest relationship.

Infatuation, for me, causes a rush of exhilaration. It is the state of circling the insatiable feelings of being in love, the falling in love aspects of being filled with blood rushing in the body when experiencing an orgasm. My brain craves the overflowing of sensations. The forbidden touches awakening the juices of titillation. Temptation is on high alert.

When I was a child, the sexual abusers each had their own technique. Slipping into my bedroom at night, while I slept, was the most covert. While you sleep, if you are a child and being touched, you may awaken due to feelings of your body betraying you. Shame and what the physical sensations are doing, force you to be the silent witness. Until one night, you may find the courage to say four simple words out loud. “Please, don’t do that.”

Does the abuser stop? Does he or she go away? Do they ever return after your bravery?

Now, I am just one more easy victim to incorporate into the cult of the unattainable illusion. Kind words so sadly sought, when whispered in a poetic message, lure the innocent sacrifice. Is it a sickness I have learned from my abusers? My need to have a forbidden love or wanting of kindness, I will sacrifice my freedom and be their slave, for one morsel metered out at a time.

To take advantage of a weakness in someone, when the knowledge of their abuse is known to you, is a pretty low place to exist. And I find myself drawn to this loathsomeness of life, oh, so easily. The sad part is, I never recognize their inner faces, behind the masques. I remain the masochist and victim. It is not erasable.

I bring a proposal to you, Annie. These feelings exist. I love you. Trust is important. I need to find a way to experience these feelings of infatuation in a safe environment. It is important for me to work on what I feel. My feelings involve you. They may or may not be real. It could just be an ongoing repetition of certain experiences continuously repeating until I find the resolution.

If you will be open to working with my feelings for you in therapy, knowing they may just be a fantasy born out of my repeatedly being abused by so many different abusers, and in so many different ways. Maybe some day I will understand what happened and why or not why, but, some how, some day, I will be able to let go of what happened. And the effect on me will some day slip away. The memories won’t need their time in my conscious mind.

I will be free, at last, from all those potential abusers slipping into my life unnoticed. Maybe, someday, I will finally be able to live in a world where I feel safe and be able to trust I am trusting the right people. No more tricks and manipulations. No more using me against my will. I will see clearly beyond the darkness.

The clouds will lift. My sight will be clear. And not one hand will ever touch me again, if I don’t want it to happen.

My wish is to feel what I want to feel, when I want to feel it. No more forced contact. No contact without consent.

Is that really asking for too much? Really? Really! NO. Just saying NO means exactly that. NO, I DON’T WANT YOUR BLOODY HANDS ON MY BODY OR YOUR MIND INSIDE MY HEAD.

So, Annie, is it a deal? Can we work on details to making this work out in therapy? I don’t know why it never occurred to me to work on this in therapy. The only explanation I can think of, is it is too bloody scary to even bring it up as something to potentially talk about at all.

Enough for now. I’m exhausted. Time for “Brief Sacrifice.”

Here is my closing line from “Brief Sacrifice.”

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

For you, I will end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Love Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Joseph Stella - Flowers Italy

Joseph Stella – Flowers Italy

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Schitzer - Red Poppies Growing in a Grassy Field

Schitzer – Red Poppies Growing in a Grassy Field

rain in garden gif

Infatuation Invisibility
Narrative  Haiku
By Madison Taylor
10th June 2008

Confession scary
Inappropriate feelings
Infatuation

Visibility
Vanish blown away by wind
Five hundred miles gone

Innocence stolen
Invasive touch snatched away
Emotions blocked

One invisible
Secret keeping silently
Death be the dark guard

Light candle in wind
Awakened attention drawn
Surrender evil

Celebrate freedom
Chains broke escape privately
Paid success denied

Sexuality
Returning what was stolen
Innocence restored

© madison taylor 2008

Out of a Dream by j. mccormack (c) JM 2007

Out of a Dream by  jk mccormack (c) jKm 2007

Cannonball – Lea Michele [FULL SONG]

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

Madison and Scottie's bedroom

Madison and Scottie’s bedroom

Open White Kitchen

Open White Party Kitchen

play is not just play meryl streep

“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibilities.”
— Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana